A Study on Neglect
by watch the stars
Summary: After the way Harry was raised, it doesn't make sense that he turned out so well rounded and normal. Neglect leaves lasting scars. Here are some of them.
1. On A Mother's Face

A/N: This is the first thing I've ever posted, although definitely not the first thing I've written. I just kinda got fed up with myself and how I always hold myself back from posting anything so I thought "why not?" and decided to give it a shot.

This is a work in progress and to be honest I have no idea where this is going or even if this has a plot. Just going with the flow on this one. This fic is also completely unbetaed.

This work is cross posted on AO3. Please don't repost or take any of this fic without my permission.

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Harry first saw a picture of his mother when he was seven years old.

Amongst the numerous pictures of the Dursleys, Dudley chief among them, was one frame tucked to the back on the mantle. Harry had technically seen it his whole life but had never been tall enough to get a good look at it. However, as he was now seven years old, he had been deemed old enough to be entrusted with the task of dusting the photo frames. It was still a bit of a stretch so little Harry dragged out his step stool he used for cooking into the living room from the kitchen and got to work.

When he reached the aforementioned frame, he first thought nothing of it. It was an older picture of two adults and two children, all strangers to Harry. As he looked harder though, he started to notice similarities between one of the children and his Aunt Petunia. The little girl in the photo stood tall before the two adults in a pretty yellow sundress. She had a long neck and mousy hair like the Petunia Harry knows but her smile was large and beaming in a way that he'd never seen on the older counterpart. Yet something about the image told Harry this was his Aunt. With that knowledge, he took more interest in the other three figures in the frame.

The adults were a man and a woman, looking happier than any posed posturing the Dursleys did for their many photo shoots. They stood relaxed, the man with his arm around the woman in a way that clearly showed they were a couple. Both had a hand on one of the children's shoulders in front of them, painting the image of a close family.

Harry finally looked at the last person in the picture. It was another little girl, one younger than the child Petunia, probably around Harry's age. She had fiery red hair that fell down in long waves over her bright green sundress, the vibrant colors making her stand out on the age-worn paper. As opposed to the other three people, she wasn't facing the camera. Instead, she was turned towards the others and was smiling up at her family with clear joy and admiration. Though Harry could only see half her face because of this, it was clear that this young girl was very beautiful.

 _This is Aunt Petunia's family_ , Harry thought as he took in the image. _So this must be_ my _family_. His hungry eyes landed once more on the youngest person in the picture. This must be my mum. Time passed as Harry stood on his stool in front of the mantle, dusting forgotten as he stared at the photo of his long gone mother. He only came out of his revere as the sound of footsteps approaching the living room could be heard. Over time, dusting every Saturday would become Harry's favorite chore in the Dursley household. But on that first day, as Harry left to help his Aunt fix lunch for his relatives, he cast one last look over his shoulder at his mother on the mantle and thought _I wish I knew her name_.


	2. On Lonely Nights

Four years later and Harry finally knew his mother's name, as well as his father's and many other facts about them. Foremost was that they could do magic and, as their son, so could Harry. Now he found himself whisked away to a magical castle in the middle of nowhere far far away from the Dursleys. Never before had Harry been so happy and never before had he been so scared.

It was late at night on Harry's first day at Hogwarts that found the boy silently crying on his four poster bed in the Gryffindor dorms. He'd gotten good at crying soundlessly after years at the Dursley residence and now it came in handy as to not wake up any of his new roommates who slept peacefully around him, with Ron Weasley's snores covering up any quiet sniffles he may make. It was now, after his whole world had been turned upside down, that Harry felt an odd sense of homesickness that he never thought he'd feel after having his dreams come true and finally being taken away from the Dursleys.

There was a certain routine to Harry's life that had been a source of great comfort. Aunt Petunia would start the breakfast in the mornings and, as she lovingly woke up her husband and son, Harry would finish it and dish it up for the family. Most days he was allowed to eat as well. Then he'd do the dishes and it would be time for school. Grudgingly, Uncle Vernon would drive him there, where Harry would spend the day avoiding Dudley and carefully underperforming so as to not be punished for doing better than his cousin.

After school there would be more dodging Dudley and doing more chores around the house for Aunt Petunia. Sometimes on good days he'd even have time to do his homework and learn a thing or two. Then it was dinner time which involved helping in the kitchen once again so that the food was ready for when Uncle Vernon came home from work. Harry would be fed at this meal less often than the others but on really good days he'd even be allowed to join the family at the table. After doing the dishes, the rest of the evening was spent hiding in his cupboard from the Dursleys and hoping they'd forget he existed.

It was a monotonous life but it was all Harry'd ever known. The changes that had come in the last couple months had been many and impactful. Never again would things go back to how they'd been for as long as he could remember. And though the changes were good, Harry was not used to change at all. The differences now were too many and he longed for the familiarity of his relatives ignoring him, ordering him around, yelling at him, anything that felt like home in this unfamiliar, cold castle full of strangers and uncertainty.

As the night passed on, Harry eventually ran out of tears. But the feelings of loss lingered and he stayed up much longer as he tried to wrap his mind around missing what he'd always hated.


End file.
